Fun with Yahoo image search

Here are the same words, and their first photographic results, on Yahoo's image search engine:

zany

madcap

pratfall

hijinks

extreme

antics

shenanigans (the same as Google)

sexy robot

Alan Alda

groin punch

horseplay

farts

slacks

mustache

I learned a lot from this exercise. A lot.

Fun with Google image search

I typed the following words into Google image search, and these are the first photos that came up for each:
zany

madcap

pratfall

hijinks

extreme

antics

shenanigans

sexy robot

Alan Alda

groin punch

horseplay

farts

slacks

mustache

That's all for now.

German toads explode

Stay away from the pond!

The return of the son of the daughter of More Referring URLs

I may end up devoting this site entirely to what people were Google searching when they ended up here. Today's winner:
Some poor slob is still searching for "smashing thumbs" but top honors today go to the class act who desperately wanted to find pages containing "gluing vaginas." He must have been disappointed to find my site. Yes, it mentions "gluing" and "vaginas" but there are no descriptions, photos, or videos of anyone applying your standard industrial adhesives or even plain old Elmer's Glue to female genitalia. Gluing vaginas? Come on, man, that's counterproductive.

Listening to: It's Classic Rock and PBR-drinking Thursday!
Black Sabbath - Vol. 4
Buffalo Springfield - self-titled

More referring URLs

It's always a treat to see what people were Google-searching when they ended up at my website. There are some real "doozies" in this latest batch, as my "grandfather" would say. But who's talking now? Here are my favorites of the week (and it's only Tuesday, for the love of God):

"Eva Mattes nude"
"let's go home and w." (I haven't w.'ed for weeks. Minutes even.)
"smashing thumbs"
"very good hints for robot rage" (I love how they included the word "very.")
"Teaneck or Sharon or Windham or Vermont or music or comic or books or Otto or Binder Louis B."
"Bono womanizing" (hey everybody, let's go bono womanizing)

Listening to: Queens of the Stone Age - Rated R
Reading: A Death in the Family by James Agee

The new pope's an asshole

He sure is.

Washbots

I was sort of half-listening to the news while looking at job listings on the Internet, and overheard a report about robots performing surgery. Then I overheard this phrase: "Robo scrub nurse." Boop. Robo Scrub Nurse ready to scrub you. Boop. Beep.

Reading: Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris (This book is pleasant enough, but I'm a little underwhelmed. The way people talk about this guy, I was expecting to have 200 laughgasms per page. What am I missing?)

Subconscious ridiculous

I remember nothing from the very long dream I had last night except an old man saying to me, "I hate the Spice Girls. They're so violent."

Listening to: Robert Wyatt - Cuckooland

Doppelblogger

Film-Watching Robot is up and running. More content to come.

Aw shit

Aw fuck.

Googly

I was checking the referring URLs to this site for some meager way to pass the unsatisfying minutes of my unsuccessful life, and I found some Google searches that led people to Can-Smashing Robot (soon to be C-SR: Miami, starring Chi McBride as Sgt. Lucky Fontleroy, when the retooling is finished). Here they are:
"hate Conor Oberst"
"'The Surrender' excerpts anal"
"jacqui malouf baby"
"this sucks. it's art. why does everything suck. let's go home and watch mtv"
"famous collages" (are there any?)
"moonlight towers sucks"
"Parking Garage Death Nebraska"
"robot april 2005"
"can smashing machine"

Reading: The Killer Inside Me by Jim Thompson
Listening to: Sparklehorse - It's a Wonderful Life
I would also tell you what movies I watched, but "Film-Watching Robot," a different website containing my movie-nerd observations (thereby keeping them off this site, which should come as a relief to those of you who like this site but have healthier hobbies, such as going outside and speaking to other human beings), is coming soon, probably this week.

Let me also add that I have seen this season's "American Idol" a handful of times while eating dinner, and I think Paula Abdul is completely bonkers. I think she's either bottoming out on drugs or has been co-opted by some sort of body-snatching magical pixie with a chemical imbalance. She acts like she got trapped in an orgasm and never came back. I don't remember her acting this way on the bits and pieces I've seen from previous seasons. What do you think?

O-blog-atory

Blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog blog.

Listening to: John Lennon - Plastic Ono Band

I watched these movies:
On the big screen: White Collar Worker Kintaro (Takashi Miike)
On video: Alexandria Again and Forever (Youssef Chahine)
La Sentinelle (Arnaud Desplechin)
Savage Nights (Cyril Collard)
West Side Story (Jerome Robbins, Robert Wise)
Husbands and Wives (Woody Allen)

Forget the Pope, this is much more important

My favorite living songwriter, Neil Young, and my favorite living writer, Barry Hannah, both escaped near-death experiences this week. Young had a brain aneurysm but is expected to make a full recovery and Hannah was hospitalized in Austin all last week in the critical care unit (he's currently a visiting professor in San Marcos) for an undisclosed illness, but is also expected to make a full recovery. Both of these guys' entire careers are hotwired into my synapses and have had a huge influence on me. I'm glad they're still alive. What more could the Pope do? His best days are behind him. He jumped the shark in 2000 or '01. Long live Barry Hannah and Neil Young.
Currently reading: The Thanatos Syndrome by Walker Percy
Listening to: Dinosaur Jr - Bug
Elvis Costello - My Aim is True

Lapses in judgment by awesome dudes who should know better

Two of my favorite artists have disappointed me by endorsing absolute shit. I know I'm too old to care about this, but I am an immature child who wants the bands I like not to like other bands I hate. I am a baby. Let the reprimands begin:

David Byrne. I'm calling you out. I like you very much. On your website, davidbyrne.com, you have programmed your own radio station, much of it good, some great, at worst pleasant. However, you have a song by Bob Schneider on your station. Bob fuckin' Schneider. The scourge of Austin. He's so terrible. Bob fuckin Schneider. He used to date Sandra Bullock. His music sounds like the way Sandra Bullock's movies look. Why, David Byrne? Why?

Reprimand #2: Yo La Tengo. You are one of my favorite bands. Your records are great. Your live show is excellent. Every year, you do a charity benefit in Hoboken in which you invite other musicians to play cover songs with you. This year, Conor Oberst sang two songs with you. What the fuck? I feel like crying when I even vaguely think about this. It hurts me deeply. I hate Conor Oberst so much. Yo La Tengo, your years of service in my record collection count for a lot. I can't stay mad at you. But, Conor fuckin' Oberst. Bright Eyes is the worst thing I've ever heard in my life. God, Bright Eyes. Bright fuckin' Eyes. Plus, he's a humorless dick. I hate his crybaby anus voice and his self-pitying song-turds. "I'm crying right now while I sing because life is so hard. Why must I be able to do what I want, have no day job, travel the world, play with Yo La fucking Tengo, and fall ass over nuts into several vaginas. I will now brood into the camera for pictures that will soon grace the next 1200 magazine articles about me this month. Woe is me. The pain of life. The pain. The misery. Why, God, why did you burden me with success on my own terms? How horrible it is." What a bag of shit. I wish I could murder him. I hate him so much. I hate him so much. When people have heard me badmouth Conor Oberst (which I do a lot. I'm weirdly obsessive in my all-pervading hatred of the man and his music, but I've had his dung shoved down my earhole a lot more than your average person, since we're both from Nebraska and he was a local sensation while I was going to college. I was forced to hear him on college radio, at parties, and even live at my favorite local bars. I thought I had escaped him when I came to Austin, but unfortunately he became semi-famous and now it's impossible to open a magazine without seeing his precious, fragile self.), they usually say to me, "You're just jealous." You're goddamn right I'm jealous. I'm insanely jealous of the life he gets to lead. I'm guilty. You caught me. I'm jealous of Conor Oberst's life. Every Monday morning at the next shitty office job I get, I will think of that motherfucker playing with Yo La Tengo. But you know the line about "just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're not after you." It's also true that just because you're jealous, doesn't mean his music isn't worthless. He's snowed so many people with his contrived, artificial, affected, false art. He sucks. I hate him so much. I've never hated another musician's work so much in my life. What is wrong with me? Why do I hate him so much? I need help.
In conclusion: Shame on you Yo La Tengo. Shame on you.